


Life can be a pain in the neck (literally)

by Liz3yy317865



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, Hospitals, Sick John, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:56:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liz3yy317865/pseuds/Liz3yy317865
Summary: John gets sick, tries to ignore it the daft little bean.I suck at writing summaries, please be kind!





	Life can be a pain in the neck (literally)

"Come on Deaks at least try it!", implored Roger, a steaming hot plate in one outstretched hand. "Sorry mate I’m just not hungry", John sighed sadly whilst trying hard not to look too longingly at the mound of delicious looking cheese on toast just inches from his face. "But it’s your favourite! I bought that posh bread you keep going on about, plus I had to hide the cheese from Brian as he was eyeing it up". Roger couldn’t understand why John was refusing his favourite snack, he was sure he hadn’t seen him eat a decent meal in days. 

Secretly John was desperate to eat, anything edible would do, but the pain in his throat that had started recently as a slight tickle, was now so awful it was causing him intense pain to even swallow let alone consume any food. It had come to the point that even something as innocent as a glass of water would bring him to tears. "Ok fine, but don’t say I didn’t offer". Roger glared at him with a small amount of concern in his eyes before stalking off towards his room to devour the food he’d lovingly made himself. "I’m not letting this go to waste" he muttered as he wandered off. John watched roger leave the room with despair in his eyes, slumping back on the sofa. "Perhaps I should see a doctor now he thought, this can’t be a simple throat infection or flu?" 

A week earlier John had noticed suddenly his taste buds were “off”, his usual go to’s made him cringe and he was no longer enjoying all the food stuffs and beverages he would look forward to after a long days recording or rehearsals. "What’s going on?" He thought, "I can’t have the flu again?" He’d not long got over a particularly nasty bout which had left him bedridden for a week and feeling rough for several days after. He had put it down to stress, but this? This was different. 

John wasn’t overly keen on doctors or hospitals so tried to avoid falling ill at all costs, this time just like many others he had self medicated, downing as many pills as was safe without arousing the suspicions of his band mates. But by now there was no hiding he was suffering, he couldn’t swallow without causing intense pain so avoided it to the point he was verging on becoming dangerously dehydrated. More than once in the past week he’d almost fainted in the studio and had only just managed to cover it up. John was thirsty, hungry, weak and downright fed up. That’s it he thought to himself miserably, I need help.

Standing up slowly A wave of dizziness washed over him, dark spots danced in front of his eyes and the room started to spin. Thankfully it passed as quickly as it had started, he stood rooted to the spot hands outstretched in case he fell, but...nothing. Breathing out a small sigh of relief he walked somewhat wobbly over to the house phone in the hall way, praying that Roger wouldn’t appear. Time to get this looked at he decided, even though he really didn’t want to. 

Fortune was on Johns side that morning as his GP had an emergency appointment available provided he could get there within the hour. Not wanting to worry his flat mate he left a brief note on the kitchen table along the lines of needing to pop out for a bit, before wrapping himself up against the January cold and heading out before he could change his mind. Two hours later John was back home, armed with a bottle of liquid antibiotics and a prescription for another dose if needed. Feeling annoyed at his diagnosis but hopeful at the same time of a swift recovery. 

"Where’d you disappear to?" John jumped as Rogers dulcet tones suddenly rang in his ears. "I came to see if you wanted anything and you’d gone!" "Yeah" John sighed, "sorry I had to head out". "So I saw from the note, so where you been?" "Doctors", John said, looking up into Rogers worried eyes. "Why? Are you ok?" John held up his medication, "I have tonsillitis, worse case they’ve ever seen apparently". Johns voice wobbled as he explained in detail how he’d been struggling all week. 

"Oh shit Deaks you should have told us!" Roger exclaimed, "we all guessed something was up, that’s why you wouldn’t eat earlier! Mate why would you keep this to yourself?" "I’m sorry" John apologised, "I didn’t want to worry anyone". "Of course we would worry Deaky, you’re our friend, what kind of rubbish band mates would we be if we didn't care or worry about you?" John smiled at the thought of the others being worried about him, they treated him with kid gloves at times, like he might break or blow away in the slightest breeze. 

John spent the rest of the day safely snuggled up in bed, bundled up in as many blankets as Roger could find. Several pillows tucked behind his head and whatever reading materials could be found to help while away the hours. Roger fussed over his younger band mate, checking on him constantly and making sure he had taken his medication. He had to hold Johns hand reassuringly as he forced down his medication, the pain of which caused tears to run down his cheeks. "I’m sorry" John gasped, "it’s just so painful to swallow. The doctor said my tonsils are so raw and inflamed that they’re touching". 

Roger frowned and ran a hand through his younger friends hair to try and comfort him. "Don’t apologise" he insisted, "I can only imagine how much it hurts. Just try and rest and let the meds kick in yeah? You’ll be right as rain in the morning". John nodded sleepily, trying to resist closing his eyes. "Hey, don’t fight it mate, just sleep ok? I won’t be far if you need anything". Roger watched as John buried himself under the duvet and quietly left the room to let the young bassist rest. 

Brian and Freddie were informed of John’s illness and told he’d be out of action for a few days. "Look after him won’t you? we need him" said Brian, worriedly twirling the phone cord around his long fingers. Roger glared at the receiver before putting it back to his ear, "of course I will, what do you take me for? Look don’t worry, he’s dosed up, resting in bed and he has me to take care of him". "That’s what I’m worried about" Brian admitted, "perhaps me or Freddie should drop by?" "No, no" Roger reassured him, "I promise this time tomorrow he’ll a different man". Unfortunately for all of them that was a promise that Roger couldn’t keep. 

After a somewhat restless nights sleep John opened his eyes the next morning to the sense that something wasn’t right. He sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in his neck and shoulders wondering why he felt so odd. He couldn’t think why but something was just “off”. Glancing down at his bare arms he froze, his breath caught in his chest… "what the hell…..?" he threw the bed covers and blankets back to reveal his pale legs were covered in the same dark red patches that adorned his arms. 

Panicking, John stumbled out of bed in search of a mirror, finding one on his nightstand he bought it slowly up to his face, his reflection stared back at him. His skin was pale, damp with sweat, the same red patches creeping up his neck. Even worse, his lips had a horrible purple tinge. "Oh fuck" he breathed…"this is bad"...... He stood frozen to the spot not knowing what to do, he’d never reacted like this to anything in his life. It was at that point that Roger chose to pay him a visit, slowly opening the door and softly calling his name. "John, mate you ok? feeling any better?" 

Roger took one look at his stricken band mate and gasped out loud, "oh fuck what’s happened?!" running over to him and gently taking his hands. "What’s going on Deaks? you look like a strawberry!" "I don’t know!" John cried, "I just woke up and found myself looking like this, my lips are swelling up and my chest feels tight. I’m scared Rog!" Trying not to panic Roger gently guided John to his wardrobe and encouraged him to get dressed. "Get some clothes on Deaks quick as you can, I’m taking you to the hospital". 

The drive to the hospital seemed to take hours, all the while Roger kept one eye on John who was constantly clenching and unclencing his hands muttering to himself that they felt tight and hot. It was also painfully obvious that his breathing was becoming laboured. Roger didn’t want to admit it but he was terrified, he’d never seen any of his friends in this state before and couldn’t for the life of him think what was wrong, John only had tonsilitis didn’t he? 

It turned out after a thorough examination that not only did poor John have knackered tonsils he also had an allergy to penicillin. No one could be blamed for this however as he’d never had to take the antibiotic before so therefore his allergy wasn’t on record, it had been discovered sadly the hard way. After waiting somewhat impatiently for any news on his friend (in a private side room that the nurses had kindly let him use) a doctor finally appeared to give Roger an update. 

"How is he?" he asked, standing up quickly, "what’s happened to him?" "I’m sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Taylor, I’m Doctor Morris and I’ve been charge of Mr Deacons care. We’ve got the swelling down and started him on a course of intravenous steroids. He’s stable now and much more comfortable, I can assure you he’s no longer in any danger". "So what caused all this then?" Roger asked. "Your friend is allergic to the antibiotics he was prescribed and he was unfortunate enough to suffer a nasty reaction, you did the right thing in getting him here quickly". Roger was shocked, his mind racing with all sorts of alternative horrific outcomes. 

"He’s ok now though right? What about his tonsils?" "We’ll keep him here for a few days to let the steroids do their work", the Doctor explained. "That will also take care of the infection". Roger breathed a huge sigh of relief, surprised at how emotional he felt. "Would you like to see him now?" The Doctor asked kindly? Of course Roger thought, though he had something very important to do first. 

30 minutes later Roger, flanked by Brian and Freddie was nervously standing at the door to John’s room, hesitating over going in. Roger had called them both as soon as he been told their friend was ok, tearfully explaining the whole story in graphic detail. "The fuck Rog!" the other two had exclaimed in unison, "what the hell happened?!" tripping over themselves asking questions, demanding information, making accusations. "We’ll be right there!" Roger hung up the phone slowly, shaking his head. He felt dreadful, like he had somehow left John down. Not noticed when he was suffering, too self absorbed to see that poor Deaks needed help. This he swore would never happen again. "Come on", Brian spoke up, "lets go in, we can’t stand here all night feeling sorry for ourselves". 

It was a shock to see John looking small and defenceless in his hospital bed, dressed in a light blue gown, hooked up to a heart monitor and with a drip in his arm. An oxygen mask draped across his chest in case he needed it. "Hey guys" he said softly, "I’m so sorry for all this". "What on earth for my love?" Freddie said looking down at his friend with regret his eyes, "we’re the ones who should be apologising". "He’s right" Brian added taking John’s right hand in his, "we should have realised you weren’t well and done more to help". "It’s ok, honestly" John answered looking down and sighing. "I need to speak up if something isn’t right, you’re not mind readers". 

They all shared a smile and laughed lightly, agreeing that they all from now on needed to take more care of each other, starting today. They weren’t just band mates, they were friends, the best of friends and needed each other more than they’d realised. For now they were grateful that little Deaky was ok and would recover to fight another day. They had their friend back and that was priceless.


End file.
